


Not yet buried

by holysmotez



Series: Remake Deleted Scenes [4]
Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Chapter 14, Deleted Scenes, F/M, FFVII Remake spoilers, FLUFF FOR ME, Fluff, Kinda, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holysmotez/pseuds/holysmotez
Summary: My fourth entry into my 'deleted scene' series of short Cloti fics based on prompts from tumblr. This fic was based on a prompt involving an extended Chapter 14 scene.  Cloti fans know the one.  Spoilers
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: Remake Deleted Scenes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732945
Comments: 12
Kudos: 130





	Not yet buried

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @magos-dominus for this one! This prompt also wanted me to include Cloud speaking his mind a little bit to Tifa, and that was a nice added challenge to this. I just hope I did this iconic scene with an iconic couple some acceptable justice.

Yellow-gold flowers cling to his feet, dewy and motionless as the garden air. Cloud never cared much about flowers before. With a mako reactor close by, he never saw very many growing up. Much less did he put stock into their traditional meanings, if he even knew what they were. 

But he’ll never forget these flowers, and their juxtaposition now. Their pervasive sweetness would be forever associated with the incredible shitstorm of these past few days, and with Tifa’s grief still ringing in his ears, the whole notion of _reunion_ seems like as much a mockery of them as it was a celebration. 

Some reunion they had had.

“Thank you,” Tifa says to him with a tired smile, looking like it took every last ounce of effort to give.

She _thanks_ him. _For what?_ catches in his throat. 

In the space of the ensuing silence, a too-familiar awkwardness intrudes upon them. Again. Sits its giant ass right down between them, like a specter that’s haunted their every moment alone since they had crossed paths again in Midgar. 

For one mournful, blissful minute, they had banished it. His pulse beats in a steady canter, his blood singing after their embrace. She had been so bold, but he had been bolder, hadn’t he? Too bold, really. He has no idea what came over him, but this other spectre, the one who had held her too close and too tight, had fled before he could identify them. Left him behind to deal with the swirl of regret, embarrassment, and a tantalizing hope.

Because a little while ago, he had been all but certain that when he had joined Tifa atop this small hill, that she was about to read him his last rites. That it was time to pull the plug on their professional relationship. Probably tell him to forget the Promise and release him from his obligation, that it was ridiculous to have put that on him then as it is now. Say thank you, but she’ll manage on her own without him. And maybe she could. From what he had seen of her ferocity in battle, she was worth far more than any ex-SOLDIER mercenary she could find to waste gil on, anyway.

But if there’s one thing he remembers vividly about Tifa Lockhart, ever since the stars had reminded him a few nights ago, it’s how easily she throws him for a loop. Takes him completely off guard, and tears up the movie reel playing and replaying in his head. He didn’t envision a scenario where she would simply walk through the giant, awkward specter. Like it hadn’t been possible until she had done it.

For her trouble, he had hurt her again, and she thanked him.

 _Why?_ It made no sense. She made no sense to him sometimes. He took a strange comfort from knowing this was still the Tifa who exasperated him like no other, even now. The Tifa who always pushed herself a little too far. Smiling when she had every reason not to. Putting on a brave face when no one would blame her for cutting herself a break. He’s not sure what was worse: her calling her own tears stupid, or thanking him when she should have sent him flying across the garden with her fist.

He swallows around his dry tongue. Her stubborn, ardent nature infuriates him sometimes, but his chest always feels tight whenever he looks at her now. Like it had when he first met her, he’s pretty sure. 

He had told her that a guy could change after five years, but that was a lie. It was so obvious now that nothing did. Lately it felt like a lot of things were jumbled up or missing, like his brain had been removed and replaced by a corrupted hard drive. But come to think of it, he couldn’t recall a time in his life when he felt like anything about him worked like it was supposed to. Maybe all that changed was his perspective.

But he remembers this...this best-intentioned, beautiful recklessness about her so clearly, like a sunbeam through an overcast sky. Her one-hundred percent commitment that comes straight from the heart, even to her worst ideas. It existed as an unblemished block of data that he knew for sure. It wasn’t even really a conscious thing, like he recalled it with every nerve in his whole body.

He’s not sure how long they stand across from one another. The spell only breaks when her somber gaze falls toward the flower bed, and then she’s moving. 

“Well, I guess this is goodnight, Cloud. Try to get some rest,” she says, stepping past him.

Another thing that hadn’t changed? He’s selfish. Especially now, sensing the lifeline she’s tossed him. He has the dangerous thought that maybe she wants him there after all. Had Aerith already figured that out when she pressed him to chase after Tifa into Don Corneo’s lair?

At the thought of his name, he’s assaulted by the grotesque picture of the Don and his beady eyes ogling her figure. He had reeked like a sewer, too, his wafting odor worsened by a mask of cologne. The memory comes roaring back, dragging up a repressed fury. _Intrusive_ was not a strong enough word for how the thought of Tifa being alone with that disgusting pig explodes into the forefront of his mind. How, knowing her better than he knew himself, that she would have ended up at the bottom of that hole to become a choice dinner for Corneo’s pet sewer monster. Even if she had managed to survive that, then there were the hostile spirits of the train graveyard. And beyond that, the relentless hail of gunfire along the pillar nearly had her join in the fates of Biggs and Jessie.

Lastly, like a crap cherry atop a shit sundae, there were the escaped human experiments in the underground lab. More of a tomb, really. What if they had been overwhelmed? He had wanted to pull Barret aside and tell him that he should have had them wait for his backup, but at the same time, he was so grateful he had been with her. So it canceled out.

Still, he can’t help the way his fist tightens at all their close calls. Making another bold choice for that evening, he calls out her name. “Tifa.”

She pauses at the bottom of the slope and turns to him. Her beautiful, expectant eyes meet his.

“Some things aren’t yet buried,” he says carefully, joining her at the bottom of the slope. “Like us. And I prefer that it stay that way.”

Her expectant eyes turn skeptical. “So do I, but what else are you trying to say?”

Cloud swallows, willing himself to keep going with this. “Tifa, there were a few times I-... _we_ could have lost you. Corneo, the sewer, actual ghosts. Nevermind the chaos up on the pillar, and down in that lab.”

He pauses when she looks at him in _that_ way. That kind, appraising way that’s also a bit too close for comfort. He wonders if she’ll take advantage of his hesitation to snap at him, arguing that she could handle it. But she remains silent, giving him the space to continue. 

It’s a struggle to maintain eye contact, but he gathers his resolve for the last push, because it’s important. “So, what I mean, what I’m trying to say is that even though I’m in no position to talk about promises, I wish you would promise me not to rush into a dangerous situation. Not without telling me first, at least.”

He speaks his wish, and lets it hang in the air for judgment. She’s the one to break away from his gaze first, nodding as her attention drifts towards the ground again. He braces. This is it. Here it comes. He’s about to go sailing across the pond at any second.

But then, her lip twitches. Looks up at him with an impish smile. She asks, “If I promise, then that means you’ll be sticking around?”

It bowls him over even harder than any punch she could have thrown. She sounds _hopeful_ about that idea. He wants to laugh. He thinks he does when his jaw just about falls open. 

“Yeah. I mean, I’d say that’s a solid deal in exchange for my services,” he says. 

And then _she_ laughs. A soft, brief thing that fills him with an absurd amount of pride. She says, “I think so, too. Then it’s a deal?”

“A promise,” he corrects. “And fair’s fair. I have to hear you say it. To make it official.”

Something charges the air when he says it. It makes her smile falter, though her eyes still sparkle with delight. The warmth of her proximity tugs at him, and he wants to hold her again. 

“I promise,” she says. She breaks his gaze for a moment to glance skyward. “But I guess we’ll just have to assume the stars can hear me, too.”

“They can.”

He manages not to flinch when he feels her fingertips glance up the side of his arm, but his heart thuds against his rib cage as if he had. They brush his elbow, then stop just under his shoulder.

“I’m so glad...” she starts, but shakes her head. “Nevermind. Come on. Let’s go back inside. I think I’ll be able to sleep now.”

She’s already spun on her heel and walking away by the time he can tell her, “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote something not super heavy and angsty for these two for a change. Kinda uplifting, even! Aren't you all proud of me?
> 
> I also kept in mind the perspective I had for Cloud in Broken Pieces, so this fic is also something of a follow-up to that.


End file.
